


Soul Prison

by Colaris



Category: Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Journey, Labyrinth - Freeform, Other, Weird, dream - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colaris/pseuds/Colaris
Summary: Jonathan on his way to find himself.
Kudos: 2





	Soul Prison

The white around him stung his tired eye almost painfully, burned itself deeply into the already completely overwhelmed retina. The blue opal was desperately looking for any sign of minimal change in the desolate surroundings. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The further he strolled through this eternal wasteland, the more the former psychiatrist lost hope of seeing anything other than dusty, extremely hot sand under his bare feet. Jonathan sighed softly and looked into the distance. He didn't remember how he got here. The brown-haired man had vaguely remembered that he had gone to bed after a hard night of endless work in his laboratory and then - yes, what then? There was probably no scientific explanation for this phenomenon. Even if this supposed desert existed somewhere in the world, how was his body stranded in the midst of this endless solitude without his assistance? This fact defied any applicable logic. A strange dream was always an option, of course, but the thin man had never been burdened with such realistic visions and simply did not believe in this admittedly very simple solution. Should it be expected again, he would wake up soon anyway and the spook was over. The Master of Fear stumbled over a meter high dune and tried not to lose his balance while climbing up the hill. When he reached the top breathless, his eye stared in disbelief at a bizarre structure in front of him. 

Gigantic stone walls emerged from the sand as if out of nowhere, twisted into a labyrinth that was clearly visible from this high above. The former psychiatrist frowned. What was actually going on here? He slid elegantly down the dune, feeling how the small stones rubbed against his bare skin. Jonathan came to a stop at the foot of the maze and looked up the almost intimidating walls, then finally placed his hand carefully on the brittle concrete. The material was icy cold. Strange. He walked slowly along the wall, running his fingers gently over the stone. After a while, the brown-haired man finally found the entrance to the labyrinth. He hesitated for a moment, but then entered the unreal-looking architecture. His feet greeted the unexpectedly cool ground, gradually recovering from the previous exertion in the heat. The lean man strode slowly deeper into the maze, losing his sense of direction after just a few turns.

Fortunately, the walls were set up far enough apart so that the sun could continue to illuminate the path in front of him without, however, heating the stones on the ground immeasurably. In general, an inexplicable cold crept through the hallways and supported the oppressive feeling of being followed. The former psychiatrist didn't really know this fear in his life. Neither does the overwhelming loneliness. He usually preferred silence, but now it was driving him crazy. The fact that even his feet hardly made any sounds and there was practically no wind in this building only made the quiet even more unbearable. Jonathan felt suddenly how his body was seized by a wave of weakness. He pressed his hand tightly against one of the walls and dug his fingernails into the rock, convulsively holding himself in an upright position. Could he possibly have been dehydrated from the long journey in the merciless sun? The sweat had long since stopped rolling off his forehead. 

Otherwise his body had been exposed to the heat without any sort of protection. The only clothing he wore on his fragile bones was his own pale skin. He didn't even have a thin T-shirt on, let alone pants. The Master of Fear finally found his strength again and pushed himself from the concrete, wandering again through the winding corridors. He gasped slightly. What was waiting for him in the center of the structure and how long would it take to reach it? Even from the top of the dune he could not see the whole architecture if he redraw the outlines in his head. It stretched for several kilometers. Jonathan put his hands on each of his narrow upper arms, gently stroking the reddened, almost burning skin. He turned the next corner and suddenly found himself in a large, probably square room. It was impossible for him to see to the end. At a certain distance the rest was simply engulfed in a thick fog. The brown-haired man shook his head a little bit. It didn't make sense. It made absolutely no sense at all.

The lean man felt his heart suddenly beating faster and almost leaping out of his chest. Something inside the maze was waiting for him. It practically called his name without actually speaking a word. Scarecrow obeyed the silent call and strolled on, noticing how the walls around him were slowly lost in the fog and became invisible. He was trembling badly. The former psychiatrist's body was still moving forward, but overall time seemed to be moving more slowly in this room. After a few yards, his blue eye could see a barely discernible glint in the distance. Jonathan pressed his fingers tighter into his upper arms and swayed uncertainly in the direction of the optical stimulus. He stopped in front of a huge pane of glass. This, too, apparently stretched for kilometers, dividing the area clean in half. At that moment the thin man no longer believed in reality. Wherever he was, reality had no relevance here and even the usual laws of physics were no longer valid. This was shown by the impressive fact that mysterious, white rags rose up into the sky around his figure. Only on closer inspection did the brown-haired man realize that there were small feathers that were slowly finding their way into the atmosphere via him. 

He opened his right hand in slow motion. The gentle pennae touched the now cool skin, elegantly found their way past the new obstacle. Jonathan followed attentively one of the countless feathers, which slowly slid up through his splayed fingers. He lifted his head cautiously and stared almost afraid at the other side behind the glass. A similar spectacle could be observed there, but the feathers were moving in the opposite direction. The Master of Fear was about to wander along the pane to at least find the safe walls of the labyrinth when a slight movement in the thick fog aroused his curiosity. The spirals in the opaque veil became more extravagant, revealing the spongy outline of a person after a short time. The figure was getting closer with every second. The former psychiatrist suddenly opened his good eye wide.

It couldn't be. The strange, equally naked man stepped to the transparent glass without haste and stared wordlessly at the others with equally blue opals. White wings stretched behind his back and pushed outward in one fluid movement. A torrent of feathers flew into the strange atmosphere during this act. Jonathan was speechless. He couldn't believe what he saw and even if his eye tried to process what he saw somehow appropriately, his mind at the latest failed at the final representation. Scarecrow stuttered softly: "What in the world are yo ..." The blonde-haired man suddenly shook his head and put a finger on his curved lips. The lean man fell silent suddenly, complied with the non-verbal invitation of the stranger. He closed the last distance to the pane and placed his hand on the smooth surface, his eye not ever leaving the outline of the other person. A few seconds passed, although this statement was insignificant at the moment. With the distorted spatial structure, it was no longer possible to clearly determine the past time. No one could say with absolute certainty whether a minute was exactly sixty seconds and even if this rule still applied the feeling was completely different. Jonathan sank into the deep blue opals, forgetting to breathe for a moment. 

Finally, his body started moving again and stepped in front of the glass, observed the contours and lines of the stranger's delicate palm. With shaky fingers, he carefully placed his own on the clear barrier. Without warning, a powerful impulse slipped through his limbs. An indescribable warmth found its way through his outer shell, starting with his hand. It gradually radiated and penetrated to his toes, only to finally reach his soul from there. It took the former psychiatrist a moment to realize that the strange aura was emanating from the blond-haired man on the other side and somehow managed to slide through the partition. Suddenly the other smiled gently, his unique voice nestled tenderly against his ears: "I've been waiting for you for a long time, Jonathan Ichabod Crane. I'm glad you made it in the end."

The addressed winced barely noticeably. He wanted to back away, but felt how his body strictly resisted his own instructions. He repeated softly: "You were waiting for me?" His question echoed through the room and created an eternal sound wave in the labyrinth. Suddenly the feathers around them froze in the air and also the mist that had swirled before seemed no longer to move. The Master of Fear closed his eye, but even when he closed it he could still see the man in front of him clearly. The stranger replied warmly: “Yes, Jonathan. They call me the Soul Collector. I look for the lost children on earth and show them the right way through a visit in their minds.” The brown-haired man tilted his head slightly to one side, suddenly noticing that he was no longer breathing. His chest did not rise or fall. Still, he didn't feel like he was suffocating. The contrary was actually the case. The thin man let his eye wander back to their hands and asked confused: “Am I dead?” The other laughed in amusement and shook his head meaningfully. 

A slight jerk went through the glass. The blond-haired man pressed harder on the window and replied calmly: “You are the absolute opposite of death, Jonathan. You are in fact very alive. But you haven't felt this for a long time and that's exactly why you're here in my care today.” The former psychiatrist felt the warmth reaching more and more parts of his soul. It was like a flood. Every vein of his body pulsed palpably and seemed to scream that it was there. Alive. The Master of Fear wanted to reply something, but when the other came before him: “Your odyssey will soon come to an end, but for that you have to realize that you are misguided for years. The world has played along badly for you, but that doesn't give you the right to do the same to your tormentors. You have a choice, Jonathan. And you can make this choice today under the watchful eyes of a benevolent witness. I will forget all your questionable actions and free your mind from the burden of being hated and feared by others. At the moment you are an outsider of humanity."

The thin man heard the loud cracking of the glass. Visible fractures ran across the transparent surface, spreading at an alarming rate. The barrier was literally about to burst. He swallowed a thick lump in his throat and breathed uncertainly: "What if I choose the wrong one?" "There is no wrong one at this point," whispered the stranger calmly. With these words, the partition splintered into thousands of pieces, slowly trickled up into the sky. The feathers had also started to rise again. The blond-haired man held out his hand, smiling, waiting for a reaction. Jonathan shuddered, almost anxiously looking at the fingers in front of him. After a while he took it more than reluctantly. The other nodded slowly and carefully pulled him over the no longer existing line. The man spoke calmly: “Come on. I'll show you what you didn't wanted to see the last decades and what to expect when you choose the part of life again. It's truly beautiful.” The former psychiatrist lost his voice completely. The fog grew thicker, but at the same time he felt he could see more than ever before. Clearer. Together they strolled through the white veil. Until nothing could be seen of either.


End file.
